


stop the world 'cause i wanna get off with you

by dryadfiona



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, kinda??, maybe sorta a little bit of a character study on rose's thoughts about nine and ten if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9436265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadfiona/pseuds/dryadfiona
Summary: Rose chalks it up to the Cinderella moment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, athena!!! to another year of friendship and being huge nerds.

Being in the TARDIS, Rose thinks, is like dreaming and never waking up.

She’s always been able to lucid dream, control the way her dream goes (even if only a little), and she can do that here, too. Whether it be dressing up in clothes from every time period and fashion imaginable, or having her room rearrange itself according to her desire, or even choosing where they go next.

Rose finds she’s been choosing where they go next a lot more, now.

He’s always grinning when he asks her, always genuinely happy with whatever she chooses, even when what she chooses is because of a TV show (to be fair, Scotland at that time was lovely, Outlander or not) or just passing fancy.

It’s kind of a mix of both when she says, “Somewhere with castles and ball gowns and people who talk a little too fancy.”

He beams and says, “I know just the place.”

\--

Rose admits she takes the opportunity that is presented when you’re going to an interstellar court with a charming man and infinite wardrobe--she dresses up.

Time is really not an issue for them, so she doesn’t feel bad about spending several hours trying to look absolutely capital-B beautiful.

(She thinks if the Doctor knew she was thinking that he’d say something along the lines of that’s true no matter what you do, Rose but she is only 19 and words can only help so much.)

Rose does feel a little silly but the look on his face when she comes down the stairs is priceless. (Were there always stairs in here? Is the TARDIS giving her a Cinderella moment?)

“You look absolutely beautiful,” the Doctor says, and she internally holds her fist in the air like she’s the edgy protagonist of an 80s movie.

He looks positively dashing and there’s really no other word to describe it. He’s always handsome, she’ll concede that, but there’s something about the way he looks right now…

She decides it’s probably just the Cinderella moment and that her brain should be quiet now.

The Doctor offers Rose his arm, and she takes it with an unnecessary flourish and he laughs, big and bright and bold, and opens the door.

She gasps, actually gasps like the breath has been knocked out of her by how absolutely stunning the palace looks.

The walls are golden, shining--it almost reminds her of Beauty and the Beast. Enormous windows show off misty moors that remind her of Scotland (she really has been watching too much out of that show).

“It’s gorgeous,” she says.

“Yeah, it is,” he says. She’s pretty sure he’s looking at her.

“Flirt,” she mock-accuses.

“Are you complaining?” he asks.

She turns from staring at the room to looking at him. “No.”

He smiles.

“So what time period is this?” she asks. Their arms are still linked together.

He shakes his head. “Not a time period. Care to make another guess?”

“Planet?”

“Ustruostea,” he says. “Populated by the Uahnim, currently in their medieval era.”

“Medieval? Won’t they notice we’re a different species?”

“They won’t realize we’re aliens, they look quite like humans. The only difference is their hearing, their eyes, and the ridges on their forehead.”

“...that’s quite a lot, Doctor.”

“Just because they have the hearing of a cat and their eyes are shiny doesn’t mean they’ll assume we’re from another planet!” the Doctor says defensively. “They’ll probably just assume we’re weird, or sick.”

“Always what a girl wants to hear,” Rose mutters.

“As for the ridges, it’s impolite to mention them and they’re not usually visible, anyway.”

“Hello?” they hear.

“Hello!” the Doctor says cheerfully.

A man steps into the room and eyes them suspiciously. “Are you two here for the Autumn Festival?”

“Yes, we are,” the Doctor says with confidence.

There’s a moment of silence. “Your invitation?” the man asks.

“Oh! Very sorry, one moment--” The Doctor moves his arm from Rose’s and pulls the psychic paper from his pocket, showing the other man.

The man’s eyes widens. “My most sincere apologies, Doctor! I didn’t realize you were a distinguished guest. My name is Vressod. Is this your companion for the ball?”

“Yes!” the Doctor says, smiling and grabbing her hand.

“Oh, dear,” Vressod says. “We’ll have to switch the rooms up a bit, we were unaware you were bringing your wife.”

The Doctor makes a choking sound and Rose turns beet-red. They both start talking at the same time, which is fortunate, because the man doesn’t understand a word they’re saying.

“Your fiancee, then?” Vressod says, confused. “The Autumn Festival is for long-term partners.”

The Doctor looks at Rose, a definite something in his eyes. “Uh,” he says.

“Yes,” Rose says, impulsively.

“Splendid!” Vressod says. “I’ll escort you to the ball, though even an Aesinian would have trouble figuring out how the pair of you got so turned around.”

He begins escorting them, chattering all the while.

“So,” the Doctor whispers. “Fiances?”

“This place is lovely,” Rose whispers back.

“You do understand we’ll likely have to keep this ruse up the whole Festival.”

“Are you complaining?” Rose asks, half-joking, half-not.

“No,” the Doctor says. “Definitely not.”

“Here we are!” Vressod says.

There’s lively music and people in gorgeous clothes and dancing and yes, this is one hell of a Cinderella moment.

“I’ll leave the two of you to dance, but come find me at the end of the ball and I’ll show you to your room.”

“Thank you!” the Doctor says.

Room, Rose thinks.

“Are you alright?” the Doctor asks anxiously.

“I’m starving,” Rose says.

“There’s food right over here,” the Doctor says, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. “It looks pretty good.”

She grabs a plate before realizing she has no clue what it is. “May I ask what this dish is? My fiance has allergies.”

The Doctor makes a face at her.

“Alsaurian whale shark and artichoke with Ullian sauce,” the server says.

“Thank you,” Rose says, explanation not having helped.

They move to sit at some fairly secluded tables, food in hand. “Is this safe for me to eat?” Rose wonders.

The Doctor takes a bite (off her plate) and thinks for a second. “I don’t think so. Tastes like chicken.”

Rose tries it, deems it okay, and finishes it because she really is starving.

Awkwardness of the night aside, the room is exactly the kind of thing she’d expect to see in a Disney movie. Beautiful gowns, a beautiful palace, beautiful dancing.

Dancing.

She wants to dance, of course, but asking seems like a step too far. Playful flirting is one thing, pretending to be together so as to avoid trouble from alien leaders another, but Rose is worried that’ll push them past something.

“Rose,” the Doctor says, and when did he get up? He stands by her with his hand out like he’s going to ask her if she’d like to-- “Care to dance?”

Rose hesitates, and the Doctor’s smile goes from unsure to dejected before she grabs his hand and says, “I’d love to.”

Things that are familiar: the way he grabs her hand and pulls her along. It’s how they met--but it’s not, really, he was so much older and so much younger and so different it makes her heart ache just thinking about it. But this; he grabs her hand, she feels a strange mix of excitement and nervousness and adventure.

She’ll always miss the Doctor, but she’ll always have the Doctor.

It’s confusing.

Things that are different: the way he twirls her around so they’re facing each other, the way he puts his arm around her waist, the way they’re really, truly close now, possibly too close for waltzing partners to be--

Which is when she realizes something else very important.

“Doctor,” she says. “I don’t know how to waltz.”

The Doctor makes a weird sort of face at her, like he kind of feels bad but also like he’s kind of trying not to laugh, and she steps on his foot.

“Ow!” He winces. “And don’t worry, it’s not bad, and I’m a fantastic dancing partner,” he says. “Or at least, I was. Haven’t tried with this new…” He trails off.

“New new Doctor?” she offers.

He smiles. “New new Doctor. Well, we’ll see.”

A new song starts, and, as it turns out, the Doctor knows the steps but cannot dance to save his life, and Rose spends half the time laughing at him and another half trying and failing to follow along, and then he’s laughing at her, and then they’re standing in the middle of the dance floor giggling and probably blocking all the other couples.

“Doctor, we should--move, let these people dance,” Rose says, hiccuping.

“We are dancing,” the Doctor says, but lets her guide him off the floor anyway.

“You two make a lovely couple,” says an elderly woman with her arms around another, both with silver-blue laurels on their heads.

“Thank you,” Rose says, ignoring the way she feels less awkward than she should.

\--

They don’t try to dance again but Rose doesn’t mind, because apparently the only thing that was needed to push through the initial awkwardness of pretending-to-be-fiances was being terrible at waltzing, because they’re back to their old and easy conversation.

(This is familiar and oh-so-different, too.)

He tells her about so many different things, galaxies beyond her comprehension and how historical events really happened and even celebrity gossip she could never hope to find out on her own, and she tells him all about how she feels about all their little adventures.

(He tells her that hearing her stories is like experiencing the universe for the first time again, and even she can’t deny the way her heart thuds in her chest at that.)

The night dies down but Rose hardly even notices until Vressod approaches them and asks if they’d like to turn in for the night.

(It’s a pretty pointed hint--people are sweeping up and one of the servers is just eyeing them across the room with a gaze Rose knows and recognizes: it’s past closing and I work in retail, please leave immediately, also I hate you.)

Why am I being so introspective tonight?

The easy conversation reaches a comfortable lull as Vressod escorts them to their room, and he’s seemingly too tired to fill the silence.

It’s then that Rose remembers room not rooms and the fact that the entire castle is under the impression they are a couple.

Vressod leaves them with a yawn and a goodbye, and the silence is a little less comfortable now.

“I can take the couch, if you prefer,” the Doctor says.

“This castle’s pretty cold,” Rose says. She has to psych herself up to say the next bit, but finally manages, “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

He looks at her with a soft, sleepy smile, and it occurs to her that she’s never seen him sleep before.

Neither of them bother to change, because they are bone-tired and because that is a situation neither of them are planning on broaching this late at night, but mostly because they did not bring a change of clothes. They just collapse on the bed, Rose with her face pressed into the pillow, the Doctor sprawled out like a starfish (unsurprising).

She passes out immediately.

\--

When Rose wakes up, the two of them are spooning, and she freezes so as not to wake him up. She’s the big spoon, which is sort of a surprise but this whole thing is, really, so it doesn’t really matter.

This is comfortable. This is nice. This is going to be an awkward conversation.

It isn’t, though, when he finally stirs. He freezes up too, but relaxes after only a moment and they lie together in silence.

Not an awkward silence.

After a couple minutes, he turns to her and they just look at each other, and she knows she has makeup all over her face but she can’t find it in her to care.

He looks at her like she’s his entire universe, and she only has to move a couple inches to press her lips to his.

She does. It’s soft and sweet and chaste and when they pull apart, the Doctor’s smiling brighter than she’s ever seen before.

Rose knows this is a Moment. She wonders if she should say that she loves him. She does, of course, but does it need saying?

She’s content with another kiss.


End file.
